A Quick Post…

as I’m actually working on stewing up some dried corn for our fourth (yes, fourth) Thanksgiving. Our first was in October, Canadian-style. I didn’t get any pictures of that meal, beyond the spectacular pumpkin pie I made:

Never have both crust and custard come out so beautifully. And it was tasty! So tasty I was generous enough to give some to Greg, who is, in point of fact, a pie heretic for claiming that the crust “doesn’t matter,” and is only to “hold the filling.” Suuure, and I bet you don’t think the outward forms of the sacraments matter, either? All for liturgical dance and tambourines and felt banners, are you?

Bet you didn’t think I was going to go from pastry to liturgy. Oh well.

Second Thanksgiving was at a fancy Italian restaurant with my parents, who were in Toronto for American Thanksgiving.

Third Thanksgiving was cooked by Tristan and me, chez moi, and I didn’t flip out once about hosting my parents with two square feet of counter space. We made it easy by making a crisp instead of a pie, and some favorites (stuffing, creamed onions) had to go out the window due to time constraints. Alas!

I didn’t get a picture of that meal, either, but here’s my lunch of leftovers:

Chicken, gravy, pickled beets, tea, and… what’s the yellow mushy stuff, you ask? Only the best holiday food known to North American man, which we have always called “Cope’s Corn,” or, more technically, stewed, fire-dried, sweet corn. My great grandmother used to dry sweet corn on her wood-burning stove to save it for winter, but now that gas and electric (more heresy) have come into vogue, most central Pennsylvanians of the sort that gave birth to my mother buy their dried corn mail-order from John Cope’s company. It is sweet and smokey and creamy and delicious and tastes good with turkey. I did a quick internet search, and ordering information, some articles on its history, and recipes can be found here, if you are intrigued— and it’s one of the only ethnic traditions my Welsh/Swiss/(German, but we don’t talk about that in the war era)/Pennsylvania Dutch family has preserved.

Moving from Thanksgiving to Advent, I haven’t yet found a way of making myself an advent wreath, but Mama did find me a beautiful (and very medievalist-appropriate) advent calendar at the Met. I thought I’d hang it under the picture of Mary, in a devotional spirit:

And, yes, I have post-Advent plans for that nail hole; wait and see!

You can’t really see in the picture, but it’s a wonderfully high-quality image of the manuscript: you can even see where letters from the other side of the parchment are showing through.

Finally, if you’ve read this far, here’s a picture of Charlotte to reward you:

Two Humble Requests

I’ve been meaning to start posting every Wednesday, as a way to keep myself “in the blogging game,” as it were, but I’m entirely exhausted by 1) a cold that has moved into my lungs and 2) the fact that Tristan and I spent three hours working on our Wedding registry and are so indecisive (and the store is so poorly laid out), we’re still far from done. Why can’t I find flatware I love? Oh, why?

Anyway, here are my requests:

1) Dear department stores: please locate your household linens (towels, sheets, etc cetera) near natural light sources. I have no idea what the actual color of our bath towels is, and that bothers me.

2) Dear neighbors: it is 10:51. Please cease playing techno.

From The Soap-Box

The Kilted Baker and I have been working on wedding registries, and I’d just like to put the following out there: just because a famous designer’s name is on it, doesn’t mean that it’s tasteful.

If you don’t believe me, please note a certain designer’s line for Crane’s Paper. I guess it’s cute, but where is that $480 dollars going to put you if you have to write a sympathy note? Running out on an errand for more writing paper, that’s where.

This in no way has to do, of course, with the fact that I kinda hate the crystal by aforementioned designer that I felt a little pressured into registering for. I need to get better about speaking up! I actually have to e-mail or call our wedding florist to say, “uhm, I was too shy to point these things out, but…can you give me some brighter colors for the roses in those centerpieces?” At least she’s excited about our wildflower desires. “It’s so much fun to work without orchids!”

Of course, we did register for china with another fashion designer’s name on it, but I love it: Vera Wang/Wedgwood Vera Lace. You will all need to come over for a (very tasteful) meal once we have a home together, and eat off it.

IN OTHER RANTS: Just because you *can* monogram it, doesn’t mean you should. Things that can be tastefully monogrammed: letter paper, handkerchiefs, luggage, the occasional very subtle piece of jewelry, fine silver, guest towels-if-you’re-that-kind-of-person (maybe; check with your local authority before confirming your order). Things that should NOT be monogrammed: evening bags, glassware, travel mugs (although this is tempting because we have some mug-stealing finks in our common room– maybe if only done very, very, tastefully, and even with the toile, I’m agnostic), anything that you might want to pass down to the next baby, underwear (please can we stop with the “Bride” panties thing? Please?), and flipflops. But why are you wearing flipflops, anyway? I sternly judge you.. I do love this umbrella even though it is in terrible taste, for reason of abovementioned finks. Yes, I’m terribly excited about acquiring a new letter to my name, but you don’t see me going around emblazoning everything from here to Etobicoke with A. S .H (or, for the wedding, A. S. T.), do you?

(I do kinda want one of these with my married monogram, maybe with the wedding date on the back, to wear in my newlywed glee…especially now that my miraculous medal is getting me attention from creepy Catholic men.)

Things like this are why our landfills are overflowing and we can’t keep money in our bank accounts. When Kolya and I stayed with his friends in England, they were just done hosting a friend’s wedding. The bride came downstairs wearing a pair of overalls with “Mrs Weasley” (not her real name) embroidered down the back. “My family bought it for me!” she exclaimed to our astonished hostess (K. and I were warming ourselves by the stove and waiting for tea). “Where did they get such a thing?” asked Mrs. G. “America!” announced the mother of the bride. “Ah,” said Mrs. G. “of course.”

While we’re here, can we also place a moratorium on unity candles, unity water-pouring, and unity colored-sand bottles that look like a state fair craft project. We get it! You’re united! The unity object doesn’t make that happen any more than it already has!

On another topic entirely, since we’re going to be splurging on the bed we buy for our(!) home: wouldn’t you be worried to set up your home with a bed named for Guinevere?

I’ve recently got it in my head (and am obsessing over) 1) getting silhouettes done of the KB and I to frame and put on the library mantle in our reception venue, and then in our(!) home, and 2) going to the East Coast in the New Year to see my half-dozen or so friends living in the NYC area.

I need to get a haircut before I go to the UBC conference to give my paper.

It would be easier to keep my hair tidy if somebody didn’t always go around stealing my hair ties.

That same somebody killed her first mouse on Tuesday. She pouted for hours after I took it away from her (it was quite dead and mysteriously flat).

That same somebody is glaring at me to go to bed, so I guess that’s the end of the ranting (for now).

A List and A Duck.

(With random photos of my duck-roasting experiments this weekend, taken by Tristan)

(All good cooking experiments start with construction projects. In this case, to make up for my lack of a roasting rack.)

Five Things I am supposed to care about as a Bride, but about which I really don’t give a damn:

1) Whether or not the stamps on the invitations are hand-cancelled. Really? This is an issue for people?

2) Late-night snacks at the reception. Three courses isn’t enough food?

(I have very little counter space)

3) Doing any sort of grand entrance into the reception. We can only seat 80 guests, and I’m wearing a Big White Dress (BWD). I think everyone realize we’re there.

(Steaming is important for fat removal)

4) Clever escort cards (for those not drowning in wedding planning at the moment, that’s code for “place cards”) or table numbers other than actual numbers. Granted, T. and I considered naming tables after books that had been important in our relationship, but we realized that bonding over Kristen Lavransdottir might not seem like a good omen to our guests (let alone being seated at a table with her name).

5) Favors. T. and I have both been to too many weddings where the hosts were left with boxes and boxes of tea candles, etc. at the end of the night. Nobody wants a tea candle; we’re giving a charitable donation somewhere instead (probably a Leukemia foundation).

Happy Feast of our Lady of the Rosary, everyone! Remember to raise a glass to the Austrian troops.

Wedding To-Do List

(Just so you know I’m not dead)

1) Collect addresses for save-the-dates.
2) Make appointment with priest to discuss liturgy.
3) Book block of hotel rooms.
4) Ask the bridesmaids their views on the modesty of their dresses. (Are spaghetti straps okay? What about with a shawl?)
5) Address save-the-dates.
6) Buy a bottle of gin.
7) Call photographers.

Thus far, number 6 is the most important item on the list.